


By Fates Design

by PathlessSpore



Category: Warhammer - All Media Types, Warhammer 40.000, warhammer 30k
Genre: Character Death, Companionship, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Maybe a romance, Minor Character Death, Probably not likely, Violence, We'll see how that turns out, fair warning, this isn't going to end well
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-25
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2019-11-05 15:53:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 10,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17921837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PathlessSpore/pseuds/PathlessSpore
Summary: Hers was a soul rarely seen upon Nostramo, a world where beauty and kindness was often devoured by the cruel and the corrupt. His was tarnished by the screaming on his home world, and his head. Maddened by his own visions of death, and by the blood and destruction he had wrought with his own hands.But would the end be the same? After all, they all marched towards the unknown horizon by some unknown fates design.





	1. Chapter 1

By Fates Design  
Warhammer 40K  
Konrad Curze/OC  
Hurt/Comfort  
Chapter 1

* * *

From a very young age had been taught to be nobody. Nostramo was a world of the harshest extremes; not a place for the weak, nor faint of heart. Each day a struggle for survival, and to make one self into a ‘Somebody’ was to invite death. Her mother was a wise woman, or so Lita would often think. Cunning, quick on her feet, and devilishly smart. All of this allowed her to stay alive for a long time, and she did much to teach Lita the same.

Be nobody Lita, she would say. Be nobody and you’ll live.

For to be pretty was to catch the attention of the depraved Barons that ruled over them, or the eyes of their ruthless Crime Lords. So her mother would smear soot and grime on her face and in her hair in an effort to mask her pretty, young features.

To be loud was to be found out. Their home was a good one. A hovel big enough for just the two of them, and cleverly tucked away from prying eyes. Her mother took no chances, so no talking, no laughter, no singing. Only heavy, sullen silence as they sat and listened to the despaired screaming outside. Starving to death in the dark.

Yes, it was better to be nobody and live, then to be somebody and end up gutted in a back alley somewhere. Though for people like Lita, and her mother, being alive didn’t seem to be all that worth it.

Their planet was one of perpetual darkness; the sky blanketed so heavily by smog that the light of their already star couldn’t reach them. And people like her and her mother were expected to work. Hard labor in the many foundries that dotted their Hive world, churning out impossible quotas for their Barons. From the time she could walk and talk she was forced to work until the day she keeled over dead.

It was easy to give into despair because of this. Their future so bleak that, despite all of her cunningness and wit, Lita’s mother flung herself from the Church Spires of the Lower Wards in an attempt to escape the only way she knew how.

Lita had been nine.

She’d watched, uncomprehendingly, until her mother hit the ground with a sickening crack, blood pooling from her mangled body. Only then did she realize what the severity of her situation was. Her mother had protected her these many years, what in the world was she going to do without her? It would only be a matter of time before someone noticed she’d no guardian; Little Ones like her did not have kind fates. Slaves to hedonistic barons for their sick pastimes, or worse wrought by the Crime Lords.

Then he came.

From out of the crowd he approached, a cutting figure that knelt down next to her to push back her hair. Kind black eyes that reflected the sad smile on his face, dark hair streaked with gray.

Rylen.

He was the head servant in the palace of Nostramo Prime, and he was in need of a new serving girl. He plucked her right off those streets and brought her back to the palace, cleaning years of soot and grime off of her with new clothes and a belly so full she almost became sick.

He taught her how to survive the palace. Much of the same advice as her mother had given her. Keep your head down, work hard, and be quiet. Be nobody and she would be safe.

But whatever kind fate that had looked down Lita the day Rylen saved her, had only decided to be kind once.

* * *

Lita cringed as she heard the Baroness snap her fingers loudly. A cold order for the girl to approach her lounge chair when she sat. Lita gripped the broom she held tightly in her hands, bowing low and hunching her shoulders in an effort to seem small. Quietly, long dark hair falling over her face and shoulders, she meekly approached the woman.

The Baroness was beautiful beyond words, a fact she took immense pride in. From head to toe she adorned herself in lavish, sparkling jewelry. Lace and silks made up her clothes, falling and curving over her form in the most flattering ways. Long, dark, and magnificent hair curled and tumbled over should in waves that accentuated her pretty, pallid face.

But it was her eyes that betrayed an ugliness no amount of finery could ever hide.

Everyone one Nostramo shared the same eyes; pools so black it was like witnessing the maw of a massive void. In the eyes of the Baroness there was a cruelty reflected in them as she reached out to grasp Lita by the chin. Heart hammering in her chest, for she knew what came next, Lita could do naught but allow the Baroness have her fun.

Mocked and tormented, threatened with the worst kind of torture. What right did she have to be prettier than the Baroness?

The woman was reaching into her aging years, and it could be seen starting to show on her face. Oh how desperately she tried to hide it. Yet make up and masks did little to hide her waning beauty.

Oh how jealous she was that she was losing what she prized so much. How she wished she could pluck it from the face of an undeserving serving girl. The Baroness laughed and she pulled Lita’s hair, and attempted to scratch her eyes out.

Lita dared not make a whimper; this was nothing new and she could do nothing but take the Baroness’ abuse.

At least until her husband called for her.

She left Lita on the floor of her decadent room, bleeding from the scalp and with a new set of bruises to nurse. Only when she was gone did she let out a small sniffle before picking herself up off the ground. She still had a job to do, and now that Her Ladyship was gone it could be done in peace. Methodically, Lita moved from one end of the chamber to the other. She returned chalices and wine jugs to their proper places, dusted and swept with an efficiency that allowed her to be done in no time.

And only when she was done did she return to the kitchens to tend to her wounded head. It was there she found Rylen, the man who had taken her in over ten years ago, barking and yelling at servants. Not uncommon but a bit early, though he was stressed for good reason.

Tomorrow evening there was to be a Grand Ball unlike anything the Aristocracy had ever seen. Everyone who was anyone was going to be there, and the palace needed to be spotless. Rylen turned to her as she walked in, eyes flicking to the blood and then moving to help her. He needed her to scrub the Grand Throne Room, there was no one else in the palace he trusted to do it than her.

It made her smile that he depended on her so, and she was all the more happy to do as her asked.

It took her well into the night to complete her task, time that she spent singing. It was a luxury she never had growing up, and one she often enjoyed in secret. The vaulted ceilings that made up the Grand Throne Room made a wonderful echo that she loved to hear. She often practiced to see how high she her voice could reach as she swept and waxed the floor, playing with the echo as she washed the sculptures.

Yet she was not a fool. She made sure that no one was around when she took moments like this. Singing made her a somebody, and somebodies always met a sticky end.

Once finished, she informed Rylen and set off into the night. She had her own house in the Middle Wards, a fact she took great pride in. It was hers, and she took care of it well though the walk home was rife with danger.

Yet these past few night had been quiet, and she knew why. Everyone on Nostramo did. It was the Night Haunter. It had all started on dreary evening many months ago; the sightings of a lone figure cutting through the night upon roof tops or in back alleys. Its victims were those known for their crimes; it had started out small. Petty thieves and murders. Then the Crime Lords among the Night Haunters brutalized warnings, cut and flayed for all to see.

To many of them, like Lita, he was their savior in a world gone completely mad. Crime over the last few months had dropped considerably, and it was driving all the ruling Barons mad. The people who used to keep the populace in line were being slaughtered one by one.

She envied whoever it was. They were somebody who was making a difference, and was strong enough to do it. An exception to the rule that somebodies always died on Nostramo.

And though the streets were clear of any life, Lita hurried home all the same.

For only fools let their guard down completely.

* * *

And a fool she had been. The Barons had called her to the Grand Throne Room, and she didn’t know why. A spill they wanted cleaned she assumed, but their intentions so much darker.

Lita screamed as another blow came to her ribs, a heavy boot that knocked her to the floor. She coughed violently, blood splattering on the floor she’d waxed just last night. Every breath she took made her ache and the pain so great her vision threatened to black out. She gave out another scream as she was rolled onto her back, staring up at the cruel visage of the Baroness. A knife glinting in her hands as she had two other people hold Lita down.

What right did she have to be so pretty?

The baroness laughed and laughed as she plunged the knife down again and again. Lita struggled, screaming so loud her voice eventually cracked.

What right did she have to possess such a pretty voice?

Well no more.

The baroness would see to it that no one would ever be prettier than she.

Cuts to her face this time, and across her neck and shoulders. So much blood that the hands that held her down slipped and let go. Not that she was going anywhere anymore. Out there in the crowd she knew Rylen was there, being held back by his staff lest he charge in and do something reckless.

And as Lita lay there dying, the fringes of her vision going black, she looked up at the ceiling and barely registered that there was someone crouching in the rafters. The pain was starting to fade as she looked up at it, and she felt as if a heavy weight was starting to pull her under.

Male, distinctly male. Very large, and in his hands a body.

Which he dropped to the floor with a resounding thud. A chorus of screams followed and they all turned their attention upward and away from her. Then several sets of hands pulled her away, Rylen’s face crossing her vision darkened. He was talking to her, though she couldn’t understand a word he was saying.

She felt only sweet bliss now, a sense of calm she’d never felt before in her life. In the darkness there would be no pain, no suffering, no sense of self. And as they rushed her away it was then she realized why her mother had flung herself to her death.


	2. Chapter 2

By Fates Design  
Warhammer 40K  
Konrad Curze/OC  
Hurt/Comfort  
Chapter 2

~~

Rylen scrolled through the data pad in his lap, tired eyes overlooking a symphony of numbers that had long ago stopped making sense to him. To say the past week had been beyond stressful would be the understatement of the century. Planet wide coups were never easy to pull off, even if it was the Night Haunter doing all the hard work. Rylen rubbed his eyes furiously, willing himself to concentrate on his work at hand. Mountains of data to go through at the bidding of his new king, manifests to find, networks to the other sectors to establish. Why the Night Haunter chose him for this job was beyond his comprehension. Rylen barked at servants for a living... Not that he had many of them left. The night of the Grand Ball had been a bloody one to say the least. Several of his staff members joined the Barons in death for crimes he wasn't even aware of.

It had been a week since that chaotic night. A week of confusion and turmoil as Rylen did his damndest to keep order in the palace.

It had also been a week since Lita had been hospitalized. She was lucky to be alive, or so the doctors kept telling him. He glanced over at her on the bed, all feeding tubes, IV's, and bandages. His heart clenched painfully as a torrent of tears threatened to spill over his eyes. She was a mess, and that was putting it kindly. Broken bones, damaged organs, cuts that threatened infection, and a mass of bruises was all that made could be made of Lita right now. And she was struggling to recover from it.

It didn't help that Doctors and technicians in charge of her couldn't be bothered to care. Lita wasn't a noble, or from any sort of wealthy background. What did it matter to them if another nobody died?

But Lita wasn't a nobody. Not in Rylen's eyes at least. He clearly remembered the day he found her all those years ago. How could he forget? He had been in the crowd when the unknown woman jumped from the tall spires above him. He had watched as her body plummeted to the ground with a sickening crack, and had made to turn as the crowd dispersed. But he saw her through the sea of people, kneeling next to the woman's mangled body. A melancholy figure wreathed in jet black hair. Before he even knew what he was doing he'd approached and bent down next to her. He gazed into terrified black pools, her face covered in all manner of grime and soot.

He smiled sadly down at her, reaching out to wipe off her face with the sleeve of his shirt.

She reminded him of the daughter he'd lost so long ago, and with a nod of finality he stood and offered his hand out to her. She stared up at him for a long moment before she gingerly took it, and allowed him to lead her away. He had brought her to the palace that night, after buying he several sets of simple clothes, and she'd been there ever since.

But now...

He gazed at her for a long time, watching as she struggled to breathe, he wondered if she'd been better off if he had left her.

~~

A second week came and passed and Lita was no closer to recover than before. They were practically letting her waste away at this point. The very thought angered Rylen that when the time came to give the King a report of Nostramo Prime's infrastructure, he took special care to throw the medical wards and their heads all to their doom. The Night Haunter's response was efficient, and brutal. By the time a third week had passed Lita was in the care of better doctors. Their prognosis, however, was not a good one.

They had to rebreak several of her bones to encourage them to heal properly, and because of her medical neglect there would be lasting damage they couldn't fix.

Rylen was back at her bedside for the fourth time this week, watching her carefully as she mumbled through her coma. A good sign according to the head nurse, it meant that their was still activity in her brain. He fixed the blanket around her shoulders, taking care not to disturb the IVs and tubes. Then, the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end. He fought the immediate urge to panic, knowing full well who was lurking in the bay window behind him. The Night Haunter was deceptively quiet for a man of his stature, as he was well over ten feet tall. Pale as any native Nostraman with a long dark hair, his face was covered in amalgamation of scars that easily terrified the unprepared.

Rylen knew why he was here. He should have been at the palace over an hour ago to give the King the new reports. He always found it hard to leave Lita's side, scared that she'd be dead the next time he came to see her. He picked up the soft sound of the window sliding open, and the barely noticeable rustle of cloth as the Night Haunter slipped into the room with them. However the king said nothing, settling into the far corner to sit and watch. Rylen sighed and reached into the pack at his feet to procure a data pad. If the Night Haunter wasn't going to kill him for being late, then he may as well give his report now.

"My network in Sectors Two, Three, and Five are reporting that the Barons in charge are withholding resources and amassing a rebellion to March on Nostramo Prime. The only Baron that seems to be falling into line is Sector 4, but with opposition on both sides he's hard pressed to delivers his quotas. I've already asked for the rebelling Barons to stand down, their response was not a kind one."

The Night Haunter laughed, cold and mirthless. Rylen turned to eye him in the corner; he was watching him with an intensity that made him almost uncomfortable. The king flashed his a smile of sharpened teeth as he chuckled, "The easy way, then. You are to keep everything in order while I'm gone."

His order was followed by the quickest glance at Lita on the bed. His meaning was clear, no distractions. It broke his heart, but Rylen nodded nonetheless. Briefly, he wondered if the Night Haunter recognized the woman whose life he had inadvertently saved three weeks prior. He very much doubted it...

A choking noise from the bed drew their attention, and before he knew it Rylen was flying to his feet sending the chair clattering to the ground. He grasped her hands as Lita writhed on the bed, trying to keep her from pulling out the IVs and feeding tubes. Her eyes were wide with terror and confusion, the only feature of her face he could see aside from the mass of bandages. He tried his best to soothe her, barely registering that The Night Haunter had moved to the door and into the hallway, with a rush of doctors running into the room afterward. With a shout of surprise he was hauled out of the room and thrown into the hallway, the doctors shutting the door in his face.

"They have their job," The king hissed at his side, glaring at him with such an intensity Rylen was surprised he didn't melt into the floor, "Now do yours. Keep the order, and keep the visits to a minimum."

He nodded in defeat, for there was nothing to do but agree.

~~

Another week and reports from Sectors Two and Three were looking up. They had come under control quickly enough when the Night Haunter departed to deal with the uprising. Rylen had to admit that their new king was certainly an efficient man. He tapped busily on the data pad in his hand, collaborating with his counter part in Sector Five. The baron there was the Night Haunter's next target, and he was quickly bearing down on the city, sending the populace into a frenzy of fear. Rylen certainly didn't envy the man...

He sighed deeply, heading to the kitchens for something to eat. As he did he briefly thought to Lita now in recovery since waking up. He had only gone to see her twice now, not wishing to test the capacity of the Night Haunter's patience. It still broke his heart every time he saw her though. For the rest of her life, Lita would suffer lasting physical trauma and chronic pain. The neglect she'd suffered in the first few weeks had resulted in untold amounts of nerve damage that rendered her left arm useless. Also, due to the fact that they had to re-break bones, she now walked with a mild limp due to a deformation in her hip they caught too late.

And all of that was information on the first visit.

When he came back a few days later he found they had removed the bandages from Lita's face, and the sight forced Rylen to leave the room to cry. Deep scars covered her cheeks, cut across her eyes and lips, and ran over her neck and shoulders.

But physical trauma was just the start, there was the mental trauma she suffered from as well. Though there was no telling just how bad it was, for Lita wouldn't say. Rylen knew her to always be a quiet and polite girl, but she was completely mute now. Any questions they asked were met with distance stares. Doctors informed Rylen on his last visit that they would be attempting therapy for her, and soon she'd be cleared to leave the hospital.

He panicked for a while. He had no idea what to do with Lita after she left the hospital. Her injuries kept her from heavy labor, and even made her former job as a maid difficult.

One thing at a time, he'd tell himself. She needed to get better first. Then he'd figure out what to do.

Rylen's data pad beeped loudly, pulling him from his reverie. He glanced down at it and to his surprise saw data coming in from Sector Five. He stared at in shock for a long while before he began to chuckle. Terms of surrender already? It had only been a day... Their king was an efficient man indeed.

~~

The beginning of the new month was turbulent. With all the Hive Cities finally brought to heel a whole plethora of problems dumped themselves on his plate. Crime was still a big problem, along with the rampant corruption of several heads of state, and not to mention the fact that he now had to find replacements for the now dead Barons of Sectors Two, Three, and Five. Rylen chuckled without meaning to. Terms of surrender was apparently not part of the Night Haunter's repertoire, and it was becoming increasingly obvious that any notion of rebellion was not going to be tolerated.

But the new state of things wasn't the only thing looming over his head now. Lita was nearing the end of her recovery period, and was going to be soon cleared for release. The problem of what to do with her was coming faster than he would have liked.

Then, the perfect opportunity presented itself.

Granted, not his first suggestion, but Rylen wasn't in a position to be picky.

The Night Haunter had decided to make the palace of Nostramo Prime his new home. As such he had sectioned off the eastern wings of the palace as his own; all of which consisted as the Grand Throne Room, the expansive library, several bedrooms, and the old Baron's cluttered office. All that was left was someone to care of it. He only wanted one servant in that part of the castle, and only one. And so help Rylen they needed to be up to par, or both of them would pay otherwise.

It was perfect. The king wasn't looking for perfection, just for someone to keep the wing orderly. Lita needed a job to help her make ends meet, and this was the easiest work load he was capable of giving. It also helped that he really didn't trust any  _but_ Lita to actually do a good job. He knew how she worked, quiet, polite, never one to cause trouble for herself, and her work ethic was something to be envious of.

Of course, when he actually presented the idea to Lita, she was less than thrilled. While still mute she had started to respond to her surroundings more and more, and had taken to her recent therapy sessions quite well. She'd understandably panicked when Rylen asked her to come back, not knowing that the Baroness had been killed the night the new King took over. When he explained it to her, she settled down a bit, seemingly relieved that she would no longer have to suffer under the abuse of the spiteful woman.

Her job would be simple, he explained. Their new king needed a maid for the Eastern Wing, and he was trusting her to do it.

Lita seemed unsure, but nodded in agreement. Even she was well aware of how badly she needed this job. Her extensive injuries kept her from hard labor, meaning she was no longer fit for foundry work or others of the like. Not that Rylen would ever send her back to that hell scape.

He smiled as she agreed, reaching out to touch her shoulder only to stop short when she flinched away from him. He tried to smile through the pain in his chest and to stamp down the overwhelming guilt that threatened to drown him. He bid her goodbye through clenched teeth, only breaking down once he was back on the street. He knelt there for a long while, sobs wracking his shoulders, unable to get a grip on himself. Eventually, as his eyes burned with his spent tears, he managed to pull himself to his feet and make for the palace.

There was things to do in preparation for Lita's return.

He just prayed that this time would be better for her.


	3. Chapter 3

By Fates Design  
Warhammer 40K  
Konrad Curze/OC  
Hurt/Comfort  
Chapter 3

 

* * *

Looking in the mirror at herself was like looking at a complete stranger. Her face was so badly scarred Lita almost didn't recognize herself. For several minutes her eyes flicked from one marred feature to the other, becoming increasingly distressed the more she stared. Since she'd woken up in the hospital weeks prior she left like she was living in a haze, unsure if anything was real. For a long time in the beginning she had somehow managed to convince herself she had died and was now stuck in some sort of hell.

Which wasn't that far off from the truth. Nostramo was hell incarnate for the living.

Afterwards, after heavy recovery and therapy both physical and mental, she'd managed to come to grips with the fact that she was still alive. Lucky, that's what a kind technician said as he patted her gently on the knee. She'd been a right mess when she'd been brought in, a sack of broken bones, damaged organs, cuts, and bruises.

But Lita didn't feel lucky.

She felt broken. Every breath hurt, every step mired with pain so unimaginable she almost couldn't bear it. Parts of her so badly damaged she'd almost lost the entire use of her left arm. It was only by the care of her doctors and technicians that she was able to regain some use of it.

And now she was home; her small, dank apartment turned into a grueling obstacle course. The bathroom steamed as her hands gripped the sides of her sink in an effort to keep herself from acting on the urge to break the mirror. Marred, hideous, ugly; these thoughts swirling in her head until she reached for her hair and pulled it over her face like a curtain. She quickly dressed for her day ahead, noting the early time yet knowing if she didn't get a head start she'd never make it to the palace in time for work.

Once she was sure she had her things, all placed in a bag that hung over her good shoulder, she locked her apartment door and made for the transport stations. Morning commute was an eerily quiet one. Normally there was scores of people screaming and talking above the hum of the ever working foundries. Yet now they all gazed off into the distance, nearly despondent. A new normal ever since the Night Haunter became their new king.

Rylen had explained it the best he could, and Lita could honestly say she was relieved. It made going back to work easy knowing she didn't have to suffer the abuse of the baroness anymore. Yet she wondered just what kind of master the Night Haunter was, and the uncertainty was torture.

She was to work in the eastern wings of the palace, and she alone would be the only one allowed in there. The Night Haunter had claimed the wing as his own, and Rylen was counting on her to do a good job. Lita prayed she would be able to live up to his expectations.

A gasp of pain left Lita's mouth as the transport shuddered violently, jostling the passengers and sending lance of pain up her back. She swallowed back the tears and gripped the seat tightly.  
Lucky they had called her. Lucky to be alive. Lita didn't feel lucky, and a small part of her wished they had just left her to die.

* * *

Rylen paced the length of the library floor nervously, biting his lower lip as he did. He wanted to check the time again, but knew if he did he'd sent himself into an even bigger frenzy. Lita was late already by fifteen minutes. Yet this was to be expected; she'd only been released from hospice a few days prior. It would take a long while yet for her to adjust to her new way of life.

It did little to stem the myriad of horrible scenarios from crossing his mind, however. Fates ranging from slipping down a set of stairs, to an attack by a petty thief spotting an easy target. He wished he could be by her side, but his new job as consul to the Night Haunter and his existing position as head servant kept him insanely busy. And that was also aside from the fact that Lita was being obtusely stubborn with accepting any form of help.

So Rylen was left with little to do but pace and worry, slowly feeling his blood pressure rising by the minute until he heard the soft creak of the library door. He spun so suddenly that he startled Lita with the fast movement. She shied away from him, pressing her body up against the door, eyes wide and wary of him through the stands of slick hair she'd let hang over her face.

More guilt than he would ever know what to do with in his life showered over him. What Lita went through should have never happened to begin with. He should have known better, should have seen the signs. She was like this because of him! Instead of drowning like he wanted to, he simply smiled at her and motioned to the nearby table with a seat. He was the first to sit, her following soon after.

He asked how she fared, she shrugged in response. Still nary a word from her, followed by more guilt that intensified with an acute sense of helplessness. He didn't know where to begin helping her, or even how. This wasn't something he could bark an order at and see it fixed within the hour.

For the next ten minutes he talked her through her new list of duties. All that was the Eastern Wing would be her responsibility. The library, the grand throne room, the rooms that lined the far end of the wings, and a small portion of the gardens. Their new master wasn't looking for perfection, only for someone to keep things orderly. She need not polish and wax the floors and sculptures like before, but keep things swept, dusted, and tidy. She had the entire day to complete her tasks, and even more leeway in the next few weeks as she adjusted to her body's limitations.

She was a smart girl, Rylen assured himself as she departed from the room. She was a smart girl, and this was the easiest thing he could give her.

He prayed that it was enough.

* * *

The days slowly turned into weeks, and Lita had yet to meet the new master of the palace. From early morning to the late night she worked through a daily routine. The rooms were the first to be cleaned, each one swept and dusted meticulously. There were four in total, each a grand suite that took a half hour to an hour to clean and tidy up. Save for the last door on the right hand side. It always remained locked each day she came to work, and since she didn't have any keys she let it be.

The old Barons cluttered office was next. She cleaned that room in small increments. Data pads dating back several decades line the shelves, and cluttered the computer desk. Entries that the man never bothered to file, for it made it easier to embezzle money that way. She worked on that room for an hour, typing away the entries and filing them as sensibly as she could.

After it was the gardens, to which she tended to the former baroness beloved Nostraman Nightbloom flowers, and feed the birds of paradise she kept there. Proud, colorful things they were and extremely social animals. The male among the group took a liking to Lita, often showing off his colorful tailfeathers in an attempt to impress her.

Then, once she was done suffering under the attention of the proud male bird, she went off to the library. As she worked filing away the books, and dusting the shelves Lita was almost certain the Night Haunter spent most of his time here. Each day it was the same, she came in around the mid afternoon to put away several books that had been laid out or carelessly tossed to the side. As she moved she could hear the soft rustle of clothing, or the sounds of a muffled footstep between darkened shelves, yet when she turned to look she was met with shadows.

The last room, the one she always saved for the late evening, was the grand ball room. The first night back to work Lita couldn't even bear the thought of going back in. She ended up frozen just outside the double doors, hearing the cruel laughter of the baroness in her ears and staring back up at the knife in her hands in her minds eye. That was how Rylen had eventually found her, slumped to the floor a tearful mess.

Not tonight, he comforted, she didn't have to clean the grand ball room tonight.

She didn't end up cleaning it for days.

Eventually, stubbornness kicked in. Lita had a job to do and Rylen was counting on her. The baroness was long dead now, and couldn't hurt her anymore. Yet, of all the rooms in the palace under her care, this was the one she gave the bare minimum to. Each night, in and out, with her screams still echoing in her ears as she worked.

Lucky. Lucky they said.

What did they know about lucky?


	4. Chapter 4

By Fate's Design  
Konrad Curze/OC  
Warhammer 30K/40K  
Chapter 4

* * *

 

His was the highest perch in all of Nostramo. From the spire he could look out onto the endless horizon of his planet and see all. Night Haunter often found himself up here when there was nothing else to do; no Barons to tolerate, nor lawbreakers to punish. Up here, above the constant hum of the foundries and the buzz of chatter in the streets, he was free to gather his thoughts in peace.

A month and  half since the day he had silenced the screams of damnded and despaired, crumbling under the heel of the corrupt barons. A month and a half of a new order, stomping down rebellion and reshaping his planet. A month and a half in his new home, as the palace of Nostramo Prime was his by his right as king.

A month and a half of very new....experiences.

The staff feared him, as many did and should. Always when he entered the room they skirted around him like prey watching the hunter, fleeing as soon as they were able. If they couldn't escape they made every effort to bend over backwards to please him. As if their supplicance would save them if he ever found any wrong doing on their part.

Fools and peons, the lot of them.

Well, all but one.

His new consul, oh yes Night Haunter liked the man. Quite fearless that one, unafraid to look his king in the eyes and stand in the face of his fury. Competent too, a trait hard to find in the palace. He had declined the job at first; what he said?

I bark at servants for a living...

The thought made the Night Haunter chuckle, well now he barked at Barons too.

Ever so carefully, each step as precise as the last one, he eased out onto the overhanging ledge above palace. One wrong move had he'd plummet to the ground below; Night Haunter had fallen from great heights and survived before, but never one such as this. He wasn't interested in testing out his luck, and his own physical limitations.

So it was a good thing he never made wrong moves.

He settled, crouching low as he watched the streets, eyes easily watching the blurring movement of the transports. A heavy wind gusted by, bring down a heavy torrent of rain. Three things were a constant on Nostramo, in one form or another. The rain, the smog, and the screaming. The former he had silenced in the here and now, but always in his head he could hear it from the far distant future.

Death, destruction, and chaos he couldn't even begin to comprehend. His visions always took their toll on him, aching bodily and mind. Nearly always with a victim nearby, for he had no control when they came.

Always violent, and always sudden.

Always maddening.

* * *

He watched as she reached up to a shelf above her head, a careful hand replacing the book he had so carelessly tossed to the side. Night Haunter eased a foot onto the loose floorboard and pressed, a loud creak that caused her to swing her head round. He snickered as her dark eyes searched for the source, but he knew he was too well hidden for her to see.

He enjoyed this game, she was perceptive when he allowed himself to be heard. This was the maid his consul had assigned to maintain the Eastern Wings, the Night Haunters rooms. He had to give credit where it was due, she was well trained in her job.

This maid entered the library the same time every day, never straying from her precise schedule. She walked among the shelves carefully, quietly. Most servants he had observed would sing or hum mindless tunes to pass time.

Never this one though.

He wondered if it had to do with the attack he had witnessed the night of his ascension.

Oh yes, he recognized this one. He had caught the tail end of the event, watching from the rafters as they carved out her flesh, and beat her until she was nothing but broken bones and bruises.

In all honesty, Night Haunter was certain she'd died. Very few survived beatings such as that, but he was all too surprised to find her barely alive days later. His consul was often found at her side, much to his irritation.

Yet soon this one faded from his mind. He was far too busy reigning in his planet to think of her, even his consul had lessened his visits.

Until the day she came sweeping into the library. This one was developing a habit of surprising him, though it did not escape his notice that she did not come back unscathed. Her face, when the long curtain of dark hair allowed him to see, was covered in an amalgamation of scar tissue. Her gait was slow, nearly labored as if she was in pain. She even had little mobility in her left arm.

Yet she survived.

He wondered what would have happened if he had been there sooner. He felt no regret at her current state, yet even he knew he life could have been very different otherwise. Such thoughts would do him no good, so he shook them from his mind.

For now he was content in his game, only stopping when she finished her chores and moved on to her next task.

* * *

Night Haunter had very little patience to begin with, and he loathed when anyone tried to test it. Not that it was his consul's fault, Rylen if he was correct in the man's name, was just as irritated as he, if not a bit more confused. Yet, as much as he was amused by the man's lack of fearlessness in the face of his king, Night Haunter found it less amusing when he was trying to get results.

Missing reports, shortened quotas, files misplaced. All the work of Barons trying to hoard their funds and defy his will. When he demanded answers the Night Haunter received an irritated retort,

_'I can't make this appear out of thin air, highness.'_

He had no clue where to start, or who to even ask for results. They couldn't even find the former master of the palace's files, all lazily thrown to the side to further his riches. Night Haunter was reaching the end of his patience, pacing back and forth across a short swath of the ball room floor.

Then, a short and soft noise from their right. Both turned to find the maid, nervously standing near the door, a data pad in her hand.

"Lita?"

Rylen moved to step forward, only pausing with a sidelong glance at his king. Night Haunter did nothing, allowing the maid to approach with caution. With nary a word she held out the data pad for Rylen to take. The king watched their exchange. Rylen cared for her as if she was his own child, which begged the question was she?

And how could the Night Haunter use this to his advantage?

"Baron Wilhelm's missing quota reports." The consul explained handing the data pad over. the kings movement was swift, reaching the maids side in the blink of an eye. She whimpered as he gripped her arm, not tight enough to break bone, but enough to keep her from escaping.

"Where did you find these?"

Her reaction was immediate. Eyes began to roll wildly with panic, her fear nearly palpable as her chest heaved. Then, another hand. Rylen was there in the next instant and the Night Haunter allowed the man to wrest the maid free. There was a fire in his eyes as he pushed her back and turned face to face with the king.

The meaning was clear.

Don't touch her, or go through me first.

Night Haunter nearly laughed; he was willing to die for her. Now that was useful. He let this little act of defiance slide, he was more interested in the reaction anyway, and watched as Rylen turned to his daughter.  
"Where did you find these?" he asked softly, not going any nearer than she allowed. Her hands began to move, this too Night Haunter noticed. She was speaking with her hands, a language that the consul understood.

"She says that she'd been filing away all of Wilhelm's old reports."

Good, that was something that could be solved in the here and now. "Continue this," he ordered coarsely, "and have a report ready for me when it's done."

He turned away as Rylen dismissed her. Now it was time to deal with the other Barons and their negligence, perhaps an example to remind them who exactly they were dealing with.

* * *

His chest and throat burned from his screaming. There was blood in his mouth, and he found he had nearly bitten his tongue off. He spat out the pool, sticky and bitterly sweet, trying to focus on the patterns on the throne room floor. His claws had marred much of the designs, results of the violent fits that came with his visions.

_Why her?_

Night Haunter did not believe in coincidences. He had tried to change the future once before, but no matter what he did or tried, everything seemed to be by some unknown fate's design.

_Why her?_

He had seen the maid's death. Broken and dying from a great fall. He recalled the moments before the violent attack. A soft knock on the throne room door, a command to enter. She slipped through quietly, data pad in hand, only freeze in terror as the vision took him.

She fled, a wise decision on her part, yet here she was again. She knelt on the floor with him, way out of his reach, with a platter in her lap. She was casting him furtive glances every so often, trying to gauge his state.

_Why her?!_

"You're going to die..." he hissed suddenly, nails digging into the floor once again but in irritation this time. A pensive look passed over her face, and this time she gripped the platter to inch ever so slowly towards him. Not enough for him to easily grasp out and reach her, but close enough to easily pass the platter itself to him with a gentle slide across the floor.

A hot drink and a data pad.

Then she made a gesture, its meaning unknown to him. Yet before he could demand an answer she bowed her head and quickly left him.

It took a while for him to gather his wits, visions often left him drained. The drink remained untouched, but the data pad he took. He report on the Barons files, all organized and ready to use. Without another thought he went to find his consul.

He was in the kitchen, taking his evening meal when the Night Haunter slipped out from the shadows. Rylen jumped as the data pad hit the table with a loud thud, gazing at him with a look of shock and mild anger. He said nothing as he took the slate and began to look it over, with the Night Haunter pacing.

"What does this mean?" he demanded suddenly, repeating the gesture the maid had given him. Confusion crossed the consul's face,

"How do you--"

"Your daughter speaks to you with her hands," The Night Haunter snapped, "What does this mean?"

A moment of silence before he had his answer.

_We all do._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So instead of another Lita chapter I tried Curze. I would super appreciate feedback on my interpretation of him.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning! Dark Subject Matter ahead! Suicidal tendencies and such!

By Fates Design  
Konrad Curze/OC  
Hurt/Comfort  
Chapter 5

* * *

The days turned to weeks, and slowly passed into months. Life continued on upon Nostramo, people milling to and from work in a quiet haze. Yet here in the palace, as Lita walked along the dark library, it was quiet.

Far too quiet for her liking... 

Normally the library was filled with the creaks and groans of the king walking among the shelves, taunting her from the shadows. Yet as of late an eerie silence permeated through the atmosphere, and Lita couldn't tell if he wasn't actually here.

Or....

Or, if he was watching her, like a predator would prey.

Things had been different since the... Well, she'd call an incident. In all honesty, Lita wasn't quite sure what had transpire, or what madness had taken hold of the Night Haunter. All she knew, as she fled the throne room with his howls of agony in her ear, was that he was much larger and much more powerful than her.

But halfway down the hall she paused, breathing hard to turn back and look upon the open throne room doors. She could still hear him screaming from here, and no doubt anyone else in the wing could as well.

What was wrong.

Was he hurt?

And why did she care?!

He certainly gave no thought for her, or her personal space, for he saw it very fitting and easy for him to threaten her. Yet, he was the Night Haunter and most importantly her king. Brute that he was, it was because of him that some semblance of order and peace reigned upon Nostramo.

So she timidly returned to the door, peeking in only a bit.

He was still panting, screaming, digging into the floor with his own sharpened claws. He seemed unaware of his surroundings, content to write at the foot of his throne while blood dripped dangerously from his mouth and onto the polished floor from some self sustained injury.

What was her duty of care in this kind of situation?

If she neared him, he could kill her in his maddened state. And she had no medical foreknowledge to aid him now. So what in the name of the Eternal Night was she supposed to do? She couldn't run to Rylen, he was out of the palace running errands, and in retrospect she doubted he'd know any better than she did.

He'd more than likely advise her to leave him be, to come back on his own, and to make sure everyone else stayed away for their own safety.

But she couldn't just leave him!

Well, she could...

But the idea didn't sit right with her. The fact that he was her king and that he seemed to care very little for her in any case aside, he was still a person. He still deserved aid and respect, regardless of what he chose to do with it.

With a deep sigh, Lita closed the doors to the throne room tightly and hurried off into the kitchens. All that screaming wasn't going to do wonders for his throat, so a warm brew would help. In the time that it took to heat up a drink for him and return with a platter in hand, her King was already coming down from whatever had a hold of him.

She cautiously approached and settled far out of his reach upon the floor, platter in hand to wait.

And she waited, and waited, until he came back with a pained gasp.  His own claws dug into the floor as he turned a sharp gaze to her, eyes burrowing so deep into her own soul. As if he was trying to derive some secret from her person. Then he said something. So surprising that it gave her pause for thought.

"You're going to die..."

The idea of death no longer frightened her. She'd nearly died two months ago, and some part of her had wished she'd stayed dead. Death was... quiet.

Bliss.

Without pain, and suffering.

Everything else was chaos and noise, fear and the unknown. But not death. No. Death was simple.

So she answered him in the only way she knew how, closing the distance between them just enough to slide the platter to him, and gestured her words.

_We all do._

She didn't know if he understood her, nor did she truly care. She fled before he could question her. Since then, Lita hadn't seen him. Though in the end, it mattered little. The Night Haunter was her king, their exchange months ago had more than likely been forgotten for he had more pressing matters to attend to.

So she continued her work dutifully.

* * *

Lita used to like the rain. The way it pattered on the roof, lulling her into a deep sleep. The way it smelled, the way it felt. But now something she used to like so much was now another constant reminder; rain brought a cold that seeped into her broken body and made her ache in ways that the painkillers couldn't help.

Like tonight.

She watched the droplets of water hit the rooftops and the street pavement, hoping that eventually exhaustion would just take hold of her and finally just let her sleep.

She hated this. She hated that she was broken, she hated that the thing she used to find comfort in now only hurt her. The rain, her bed, her work.

What was the point anymore?

She placed a gentle hand on the window of her apartment, easing it open until she could lift herself up onto the sill. It was uncomfortable, but she could easily hang just outside of it, and look down.

_Let go..._

She swayed dangerously, the rain soaking her through in a matter of seconds.

_Let go._

Was she crying? she couldn't tell; she hurt, she was tired, she just wanted it all to stop. Was that so much to ask?!

_Then let go!_

It was a fall, that was for certain, but would it be enough to take it all away? If she landed right she supposed she could easily snap her neck upon impact.

_But what about Rylen?_

The thought was a sudden slap in her face, and enough to find the willpower to throw herself back from the window and onto the apartment floor. Lita devolved into a torrent of tears with sobs that wracked her body violently.

She couldn't do that to him. Rylen would be beside himself with grief. How could she think to hurt him so callously? Time passed in a haze as she fought to pull herself together; she needed sleep. She was exhausted, and she had work in the morning.

Yet here and now the floor was the most comfortable she'd ever been, and she soon found herself drifting off to sleep with the rain splattering in through the open window.

* * *

Lita muttered irritably under her breath, perched ever so carefully upon the rickety excuse of a ladder. The palace owned servitors, like most noble houses, but Lita hated them with a burning passion. Stupid, useless things that caused more trouble than they were worth.

Like today.

Instead of cleaning the curtains that adorned the large stained glass windows of the Grand Ballroom, the servitor she'd been using decided to malfunction. It exploded in a hail of debris and mechanical fluids that Lita now had to clean.

She struggled with the clasps, leaning in to try and get a better look.

The rickety ladder shifted suddenly with her movement, throwing Lita wildly off balance. She tried to correct herself, clawing out to the drapes in effort to stop her fall. She missed, and fell back, mouth open in a silent scream while she tumbled to the ballroom floor far below her.

* * *

 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally part of chapter 5, but cut due to length reasons. Enjoy!

By Fate's Design  
Warhammer 30K  
Konrad Curze/OC  
Hurt/Comfort  
Chapter 6

* * *

 

Whatever hold she had over him was going to be the death of her, the Night Haunter idly thought as he observed the maid from a hidden perch. The garden was well tended to, glittering flora shimmering dimly in low light. She seemed more at ease here than anywhere else he'd seen her her posture was well relaxed as she plunged her hands into the soil and churned the soft mixture.

  
At her side, shaking it's brightly colored tailfeathers in her face, was some sort of bird of paradise. It sang loudly, strutting back and forth, vying very hard for her attention. To which she eventually heaved an irritated sigh, stood up, and grabbed it by the body to haul it back to the rest of its own kind grazing by the reeds.

  
The garden itself wasn't that large, but decent sized enough to house several beds of flora. An aqueduct ran from one end of the garden to the other, following a glittering stone path to a gazebo in the center before flowing out onto sluice gate below. Reeds lined the aqueducts, giving the illusion of shelter to the brightly feathered birds that seemed to eat the pests that tried to make home among the flora.

  
But his interest wasn't in the garden; no, it was the maid. It had been like so for the past several months. He was no longer entertained by taunting her from the shadows in the library, not since she had fled from him from the throne room. Her frustrating demeanor confused and irritated him.

  
Irritation was something he could deal with, easily channeled into the criminal underworld of his planet. But the confusion was something different; he did not like to appear the fool in any sort of situation. So this hold, whatever she did, he would find out what it was, and why.

  
His first thought was to beat it out of her. Most talked under the duress of pain, yet he wondered if she would give him the same dead eyed stare she had those months before. He didn't want to risk it, so he resolved to watch her from afar.

  
One way or another, he'd figure her out, and he'd finally be free of her.

* * *

  
The Night Haunter watched the exchange between Rylen and his daughter, her hands moving in the maddening language she chose to speak in. Their conversation was a quick and easy one, each reply from his consul giving him clues as to what she was saying. Bit by bit he learned, memorizing each gesture she made so that when the time came to confront her he would not be made out to be foolish.

  
They were talking about dinner, Rylen wanted her to come to his home to eat. She declined, something about... the rain. A funny gesture he didn't know, paired with a grimace beneath the curtain of her hair.

  
Pain, then?

  
Something else, something about leaving. Food? Gathering it?

  
The Night Haunter hissed low, he hated this. Hated this guessing, hated that he was entertaining this maid and her frustrating ways. He should just be done with her, move on. She was no one, and certainly not worth his time when he had the pressing matter of running a planet to contend with!

  
But he found himself moving as she packed her things for the evening and left the palace. With the hood of her jacket pulled low over her head she made for the market before they closed for curfew, and struggled to get home in the rain. It was a half hour past curfew before she managed to clamber to the front door of the complex she lived in.

  
The Night Haunter settled upon the opposite rooftop and watched dispassionately as she fumbled for the keys to let herself in, while juggling the heavy bags of food she carried in her arms. A shadow of movement from the topmost window caught his eye, and soon a figure pulled open the complex door. The maid jumped back as a hand reached out, and the Night Haunter found himself tensing to jump down.  
Frustrating as she was, he would not stand for a bystander to be attacked without provocation. Yet, he paused as she regained composure. A man stood in the doorway, about her age, holding it open and trying to reach for the bags in her arms in an effort to help. She declined, and he backed away to let her in.

  
A neighbor who had noticed she'd been struggling at the door.

  
The pair disappeared inside. Shadows in one flat and then the other, then a light. He could easily see through her window into her living room. A small kitchen where she placed the bags and moved to put away the food she'd bought. She seemed to be alone, confirmed when the light in the other flat flicked on.

  
Within the safety of her apartment she allowed some sort of façade to fall. Her shoulders slumped as she leaned heavily upon countertops, her back to the window he peered in from. She was tired, bending her body in odd shapes from some apparent discomfort as she tossed the empty bags to the side. Then, movement as she reached for something just out of sight. Deftly she took something by mouth, washing it down with water.

  
For the next few hours, the Night Haunter watched her. Peering into the window from afar while she went about some nightly routine. Until eventually she flicked off the lights and moved to somewhere farther in the flat. He shifted his position on the rooftop, trying to see if there was another window and to his satisfaction he found one into her bedroom.

  
She was trying to sleep, but tossed and turned for much of the night. Little by little he noticed the exhaustion set into her face. Eventually she gave up, throwing back the blankets and once gain disappeared from his view. When he found her again, she was staring out of the living room window down onto the rain spattered streets below.

  
He was beginning to wonder why he was out here when something happened. A flicker of her hand that easily opened the window, and he found himself holding deathly still to watch. She swung a leg over, then the next and the only thing keeping her from falling to the pavement below was the single hand she was using to hold onto the sill.

  
There was a thousand yard stare in her eyes. Like she was somewhere far away.

  
Had this been the reason he'd been so irritated by her? Her death?

  
But... this wasn't right...

  
His visions never wrong, and this wasn't her death. She would fall from a great height, yes, but not this one. This he knew in his gut. But he stayed still and watched intently.

  
Then, it was like a switch had been flipped. A sudden horrified realization as she threw herself back inside, hitting the apartment floor violently. She sobbed, her cries falling on deaf and uncaring ears, and minutely satisfied the Night Haunter turned to leave.

* * *

  
It was like witnessing everything in slow motion. He had found her in the ballroom, tending to the ruined drapes. Precariously leaning over to try and undo the clasps. Then, her sudden movement shifted the ladder, throwing her off balance and tumbling towards the floor far below her.

  
In the next instance he found himself moving. Faster than any eye could follow and sliding underneath her falling form to catch her deftly out of the air.

  
Was this the reason? For everything?

  
To prevent her death until its appointed time, like he had witnessed in his visions?

  
Why?!

  
He had never been called to do anything like this in his life, and why was it her?!

  
She seemed to realize that she was no longer falling, stunned for a long moment until her eyes flicked up towards him. Instant recognition, and she struggled to excape his grasp. To which he dumped her unceremoniously  upon the floor, and she landed with a hard grunt.

  
She scrambled to stand, he fluidly following her movement until he towered well above her. There was an angry look in her eyes, a frown set deep into her face. Her hands were moving, erractic as her breathing, as she gestured angrily to him.

  
This one he knew.

  
_Why?_

  
He loathed to admit that he didn't know any better than she did.

  
"You do not die yet," That much was truth, he had seen it. And she was far older in his visions than she was now. "I have never been wrong before, and I do not plan on starting now because you are clumsy."  
She seemed surprised that she'd been understood, but it quickly shifted into the same dead impassive face she usually wore and she turned away. Another gesture, her gratitude if he guessed correctly, and she made for the ladder once more.

  
Hissing angrily under his breath, he reached out and grabbed her by the arm and squeezed. She whimpered, one hand struggling against his grip.

  
"Leave it," he ordered, "I'll find someone who is less disaster prone than you. Now go!"

  
She rushed out of his sight, leaving him to fume. Pacing a wide swath across the polished floor as he tried to wrap his head around everything. Was this it? The culmination of everything he had witnessed, to prevent her death until it was her time?

  
Why?

  
He saw death, that was it!

  
The one time he had tried to alter fate had been a disaster, costing more lives than what he would have saved. A bitter lesson that it was his destiny to witness destruction and never have the power to do anything about it. To march to the tune of someone else's instrument towards an unknown horizon.

  
If it was also part of his destiny, to guide wayward souls to their due end, then he loathed it all the more.

* * *

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing Curze is still a bitch, but a necessary part of this story. I loathe this, and yet simultaneously enjoy the challenge.

**Author's Note:**

> This is my Warhammer 40k attempt. I'm not sure where I'm going with this, but I'm going to do my best and step outside my comfort zone. So we'll see how this goes!


End file.
